


A Bell is Tolling

by PazithiGallifreya



Series: Halordin & Badari [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 22:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14482203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PazithiGallifreya/pseuds/PazithiGallifreya
Summary: Badari does not quite get the hero's homecoming she'd hoped for, and is forced to rethink what home really is. Halordin... is Halordin (thank the Valar).





	A Bell is Tolling

She'd had the foresight, at least, to don a hooded cloak before getting too close to the mountain. Badari's beard was thicker and longer than when she'd left as a youth, she'd gained a few scars, lost the last of the puppy fat in her face on the road, and, after so many years, she was just another road-haggard dwarf crashing on the doorstep of Erebor after the fall of Sauron.

She been dallying in Esgaroth and Dale for a couple of weeks, now. She'd solved a murder mystery, brokered something resembling peace between the Dale men and refugees from the East, stopped a boy from committing fratricide, and spent a fair amount of time hunting game and fishing. She'd been running a myriad of trifling errands for the locals, and most of it was rather petty, in her estimation - the sort of thing the locals could have (and, frankly, should have) taken care of amongst themselves, but she'd welcomed the distraction and the delay. Now she was rapidly running out of excuses.

Badari stopped on the long landing above the steps into Erebor. For all it had once been the home of a dragon, and had suffered more than one siege, the monumental carvings stood as they had for centuries, staring sternly across the valley. Merchants and soldiers alike milled about, a mixture of the recent violence and the old daily grind. A few of them spared her a glance, some nodding in her direction in a vague acknowledgment, but so far none had recognized her. She fell in line behind a group of smiths struggling under bags of raw ore, likely from the Iron Hills, and slipped through the doors into the mountain halls beyond.

 

* * *

 

Badari pulled her bag from her back and milled around inside of it, blindly pushing the contents around as her fingers searched for a particular shape. She'd not touched the brass key since her youth except to move it from one satchel or pocket into another, but she'd never had the heart to discard it, despite her doubts that she'd ever need it again. Her fingertips brushed over the familiar object in the very bottom of the bag and she pulled it free, sending a few loose coins and a sack of herbs skittering over the flagstones. She swore under her breath and gathered up her belongings, muttering as she threw the sack back over her shoulder. A few dwarves passed and glance at her, but showed no recognition or particular notice, and she began to wonder if anyone here remembered her at all. Was twenty years truly so long?

Badari irritably jammed the key into the keyhole. She turned it in the lock until it stuck slightly – her father had not, apparently, gotten around to “fixing the damn thing” as he had said he would do every day for years. She twisted the key more firmly until it finally gave way and the door unlatched. Badari stepped into the home of her childhood, forgetting, as she always did, to catch hold of the crookedly hung door, and it slammed loudly against the stone frame behind her. She flinched, expecting to hear her mother shout at her from the rooms beyond as she had so many times in Badari's youth, but there was no response. Nobody was home at the moment, it seemed, but signs of recent living were strewn about. She sat down on the spindly chair with the still-loose leg beside the door and pulled off her boots, lining them up neatly against the wall beside the others already there. She stood again and shed her cloak and hung it on the empty peg above it. Two other cloaks hung nearby, and two more pegs on the other side were empty.

She stepped into the central room and it looked the same as it always had – wood furniture from the market in Dale crowded the room. There was a large stone hearth with a chimney leading upward and connecting to others that converged and, somewhere behind the mountain, opened to the sky beyond with many others. A cast-iron pot sat nearby, ready to be hung over a fire to cook her mother's favorite boar stew. Badari crossed the room and pulled a few logs from the stack of firewood on the floor beside the hearth and threw them into the grate. It was well into spring time, but it was always cool inside the mountain, and she spent a few minutes starting a fire. She shed her weapons and her bag, dropping them haphazardly onto the old ox skin covering the floor, and sank into the overstuffed cushions on her old chair in the right-hand corner.

There were carved wooden toys on the fireplace mantel, a collection of dwarves, men, and animals. Her parents had purchased them for her soon after they had come to the reclaimed Erebor, weeks of travel putting Ered Luin behind them. The markets in Dale had spared no time in reestablishing themselves once the destruction wrought by Smaug had been cleared away and repaired. Her parents had not really had the money to spare at the time, but they'd been in a celebratory mood, so as soon as their young daughter had smiled at the toys, they'd bought them and given them to her proudly, telling her that days of prosperity were ahead. It was not much later that Badari's sister Lakhadi had been born, and ten years after, her brother Kumathel followed. She had many memories of the three of them fighting over those toys. Badari's favorite goat was still missing a hind leg where Lakhadi had thrown it against a wall during one particular argument. Despite days of searching, Badari had never found the missing piece.

Badari sank further into the well-worn cushions and closed her eyes for a moment, resting as she breathed in the familiar scent of home.

 

* * *

 

She hadn't heard the door open. She certainly heard the clatter of her mother's armful of tools hitting the stone floor and surprised gasp, and Badari jerked awake, instantly on her feet and grabbing her axe before she was aware of where she was or what she was doing. She lowered her axe as soon as her eyes adjusted and she knew who she was looking at. Her mother, Badrûna, was home from the forge. (It was a good thing her time with Halordin had trained her not to react too quickly; both the elf and his animals had a nasty habit of giving her the occasional startle.)

Badari opened her mouth, then closed it again, and her mother did the same, their expressions equally unreadable. What could you say after so many years? Badari turned and propped the axe carefully against the hearth, for lack of anything better to do, and tried to reign in her rapid pulse from being startled.

“You're back,” her mother said.

“I... suppose I am.” She scratched at an imaginary bit of dirt at the edge of a bracer, glancing around the room again, which had suddenly become unfamiliar to her. More had changed than she'd realized at first – the old sofa had been replaced with something similar but not the same, the stuffed cave-claw's head that was over the door to the hallway was gone and replaced with an ornate war-hammer, and the sconces along the wall were no longer wrought iron, having been replaced with brass. Badari looked back at her mother and was shocked to see tears threatening to fall. She'd never seen her mother cry, to say the least. “I can stay for a while, anyhow.”

Her mother crossed the room and reached out toward her as if to embrace her, but hesitated, only grasping at her elbow for a moment. “Of course. Of course you'll stay. Why shouldn't you?”

 

* * *

 

Badari sat at the scrubbed wood table where they had, for years, taken meals as a family, leaning over a hot mug of some sort of herbal tea. It wasn't the stuff the elves drank, or anything she'd ever had in Esgaroth or Dale. She vaguely wondered if it was something the Easterling refugees had brought with them and traded, because she could not place the taste nor the scent. This was her mother all over, Badari thought – busying herself with anything and everything to avoid acknowledging what was right in front of her. That much had not changed, at least. Her mother's face had a few more lines than she last remembered, and she was a bit rounder about the middle, but she'd clearly weathered the war to no great ill effect. Badari propped her head against the hand that wasn't holding her mug and made a valiant effort not to nod off again. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept soundly through an entire night. Back in Minas Tirith, perhaps.

Badari took another gulp of the tea. “Where's adad?”

Her mother gave the pot over the fire another stir. “Visiting that healer he's been seeing, I suppose. His leg is healing, but it was a nasty break.”

“He fought the Easterlings?”

Her mother glanced back at her, hesitating. “Yes... he did.”

Badari drained the rest of her mug. “Never knew he could fight well enough for open warfare...”

Her mother muttered something to herself that Badari didn't quite catch before crossing the room again to grab a handful of herbs from a cabinet, speaking without looking directly at her daughter. “Yes, he was a warrior in his youth. Gave it up to become a smith just before you were born. More reliable pay, far less risky.”

Badari watched her mother sweep across the room again, throwing the herbs into the pot with the mushrooms and potatoes she'd put in earlier. Her mother's shoulders rose and fell like a tide as she took several deep breaths. She gave the pot another stir, dumped in what looked like half a bottle of sherry, and came back, sitting down at her customary spot at the head of the table. “Where in Mahal's name have you been, Badari? Your cousin sent word that you'd left Thorin's Hall ages ago. Then your brother and sister left to chase after you... I have spent months wondering whether the three of you were alive or dead!”

Badari blushed slightly, the old feeling of being caught out doing something naughty coming over her, but it was swiftly swept aside by annoyance at being spoken to like a child who'd eaten too many sweets. “I have been fighting alongside the armies of the Free People against the Enemy, amad. Kuma and Lakhi are, as far as I know, doing well, although I parted ways with both some time ago.”

“You've seen them?”

Badari took the change of subject gratefully. “As far as I know, Kumathel is still selling his potions and scrolls beyond the Misty Mountains in Bree, and entertaining the locals at the inn there. I parted ways with Lakhadi in Minas Tirith more recently. I suppose she thought her healing skills would be best put to use there. Or perhaps she wanted to learn more from the healers there; they have knowledge we do not.”

“Minas Tirith? What could you possibly be doing so far South? Such a dangerous place is not wise-”

Badari rolled her eyes. As if she had not just said what she'd been doing! Her mother heard only half of what she said and treated her like a helpless idiot, and that, too, did not seem to have changed much. “I was fighting a war, amad, as I just said. After that, I went to the Black Gate, fought further still, and then I went into Mordor itself to seek out.... well, it is no matter. It's not a place I would suggest visiting any time soon. Needs some redecorating, to be frank. The smell is quite something and the remaining orcs have rather poor manners. Well, most of them, I met a couple of interesting goblins...” Badari paused to lift her mug again, having forgotten it was empty. “I don't suppose you have something a bit more substantial?”

Her mother tutted at her and snatched the mug from her hand, going to fill it with some sort of ale before returning to the table and pushing it in front of her daughter. Badari sipped the ale and refused to show her distaste. Her mother knew she hated this particular ale, something made by one of their cousins that Badari could only assume contained goat droppings, but had not offered the whiskey her father kept up in the cupboard, which her mother also knew she favored, but had forever resented giving to her. So many years, and nothing had changed. They might as well have parted yesterday, for all the same habits remained.

Her mother stood again and retrieved another mug with the same ale for herself, sighing into her cup and glancing askew at her daughter. “I don't recall that scar over your eye before.”

Badari shrugged and gulped the foul ale, trying not to taste it too much. “'Tis one of many, though I suppose it is the most obvious.“

Silence filled the air between them while they sat and drank. Badari mentally counted the minutes as they passed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her mother was sure to bring it up soon enough.

“You should have stayed-”

Badari laughed as her own mental prediction proved true, and it was not a friendly sound. “Stay, and what? Marry that idiot, Immash, and spend my days in idleness? He wanted a prize, not a wife, a thing with the blood of Durin, however diluted, to bandy about. I was not a trinket then and I am not one now--”

Her mother turned to her, her eyes flashing with temper. “You'd have been quite wealthy and comfortable for the rest of your days! All he asked was that you stay within the mountain – you could have taken up a craft and stayed here! Many dwarrowdams have chosen thus, would that truly have been so difficult?”

The mugs jittered on the table when Badari's fist came down on the wood, and her still nearly-full mug splattered drops of the foul ale. “Yes! Yes it is!”

“Badari, you would have been safe! I would not have spent night after night wondering if you were--”

“Dead? That's what I would have been with that smug jackass, mother, at least inside my heart.”

“Your father and I just wanted--”

“Adad wanted a foot in Dain's court, and I was the wedge he meant to use, and you know it as well as I do.”

“That's not true, you know he just wanted what was best for—”

Badari threw her hands up and stood, turning her back on her mother. She crossed the room and grabbed her axes and her bag, and dragged her boots on, lacing them up poorly in her haste. “This was a mistake, clearly.”

Her mother stood as well. “You're leaving? You can't just walk out, Badari-”

Badari shook her head to herself as she grabbed her cloak. “Why not? You threw me out like rubbish before, at least now I may leave on my own terms.” She hesitated only a moment as she pulled the door open. “Give my greetings to adad. I ought to go find my husband before he gets himself into trouble again.”

Her mother's shouted “What husband?!” chased her out of the door as it slammed again of its own accord behind her. She grumbled to herself all the way back out to the open sky, ignoring questioning looks from other dwarves as she passed. Nothing had changed. Nothing! She was not the daughter they'd wanted and never would be. She'd briefly entertained the thought of introducing Halordin to them, but that seemed a hopeless thing now; they could not accept her, what chance was there that they'd ever accept her marriage? They had no great love for elves, either of them, and he was hardly the advantageous match they'd planned for her. Her brother and sister might have learned to live with her peculiarities, indeed Kumathel thought it all a fine jest, but nothing good would come from her parents knowing. Kumathel would eventually return home, and probably let the cat out of the bag in some off-hand innocent comment, but he could deal with their shock and anger on his own.

Badari had never loved another as she loved Halordin. She could take her parents' ire well enough, it was something she'd lived with for most of her life, but that her parents would likely revile the love of her life made her heart ache unexpectedly. Why did she even care? They had not been part of her life for nigh on twenty years, now, largely of their own choosing.

Badari made her way back into Dale to seek a bed at one of the inns. She was exhausted, but she would rise early and head back along the road into Mirkwood. She would find her husband, sooner or later. She had no home now but with him, and that was enough.

 

* * *

 

Badari had spent her youth tramping across the countryside around Dale and Esgaroth, and had on occasion strayed into the raft-elves' home or even out to the Iron Hills, but she'd always avoided Mirkwood. Dol Goldur might be no more, but the forest still had an ill air to it and a host of aggressive, blighted creatures, and Badari had not wanted to linger when she and her husband had passed through together weeks ago. Fangorn seemed downright friendly in hindsight. She hadn't had the heart to tear her husband away from something that so clearly gave him delight, though, however corrupted it might appear to her.

So, growing impatient, she had given him a kiss for the road, and gone ahead without him, despite the fact that they'd found little time to spend just the two of them together since Minas Tirith. He'd catch up to her eventually, but no doubt he was still in Thranduil's halls or the vicinity, finding his old friends and acquaintances. Or more likely, talking to the local wildlife while gathering rare herbs whose names she'd never be able to remember.

Badari kept to the path strictly as she passed by the home of the raft-elves and entered the benighted forest. Even at noon, little light seemed to penetrate the dense canopy, and although she rarely caught sight of anything moving, she could hear the sounds of animals and birds among the trees. The Lord of the Greenwood lived in a cave, though. It was always a peculiar thing to Badari, to think that this elf who seemed to have such spite for dwarves, would choose to live in a cave, and moreover, one that had been carved out and shaped largely by dwarven hands long ago. She knew enough history to know that there had been brief periods in the past when elves and dwarves had been allies, if not precisely close friends. Everyone knew the stories of Narvi and Celebrimbor, if nothing else, and she'd parted ways not so long ago with Thranduil's own son and Gimli, who seemed to be quite friendly (and perhaps something more, if Badari were not utterly misreading things).

She was allowed to pass into Thranduil's halls with little more than probing looks from a pair of bored-looking door wardens. She'd been inside before, briefly, with Halordin, when they had first passed through, but she had not paid a great deal of attention to any of it, keen as she was to finish their business and move on. There were, of course, elves everywhere, and they regarded her with varying degrees of disinterest or distaste. After wandering aimlessly for some time, Badari began tugging on sleeves and asking if any had seen Halordin. Most were dismissive, but one finally pointed toward a hallway, telling her he was likely in the garden, where he had been most days for the past week.

Halordin was, indeed, in this garden of Thranduil's, standing near a bird bath. He might have been a statue, for he stood for many long minutes while Badari watched, unnoticed.

_Of course he is at home here. Perfectly peaceful and content, surrounded by small creatures and any number of interesting herbs._

Badari debated within herself whether or not to announce her presence, reticent to disturb him. Other elves were beginning to notice her, and some were watching her now, probably wondering what she was doing in this place, what interest she could possibly have in this garden, or wondering why she was staring at an elf's back so intently.

Badari had felt so sure of everything that night in Minas Tirith, as they made love together for the first (and so far, only) time, making their vows in secret, but nonetheless in earnest. She loved him, and he loved her. Why shouldn't they be together? This place, though, this world, was not one she could truly live in. She was not an elf. She could never be an elf. She liked animals well enough, and appreciated the worth of healing herbs, and certainly appreciated the taste of cooking herbs, but she did not understand them the way he did. And what did he know of mountain and stone? He had listened to her prattle on about such things for hours in the past, and as much as his interest seemed genuine, still they were dead things to him, not the living, beating heart of his world.

Badari shook her head, pushing away such concerns. _What is done is done._ In the sum of things, she could not be parted from him, and would not wish to be, no matter what these other elves might think, certainly no matter what her parents might think. After all, if it had been up to them, she'd have sat inside Erebor in meek (and utterly _boring_ ) idleness for all her days. She moved to stand beside him, watching a small bird hopping about on the edge of the bird bath. She pulled a bit of Dale-cram out of a pocket and let the creature peck at the crumbs. Halordin's still form suddenly returned to life. She left the remainder of the food on the edge of the bird bath for the bird to finish and turned to her husband, tugging at his shirt until he leaned down enough for her to kiss him. Somewhere behind her, an elf made an odd choking noise, and fled into the halls beyond, no doubt to spread gossip about the dwarf who kisses elves, but Badari could not be bothered to care at the moment.

Halordin allowed her to kiss him for several long moments, reserved but not resentful. After she released him, he peered down at her, tilting his head slightly and blinking at her while he collected his thoughts. “By Elbereth... what are you doing here? We had agreed to meet in Dale, in a month's time?” Halordin looked over her, bending slightly here and there to get a better view. “You are well?”

Badari cleared her throat, suddenly at a loss for words herself. “Oh, of course. Everything is fine. I just... I wanted to see your face, is all.” That was true enough, and she meant it, she had wanted to see him. Now that he was in front of her, she realized just how desperately it was true, and she struggled to keep her hands at her side, wanting nothing more than embrace him, to pull him to her, and perhaps much more. She was keenly aware, though, that there were eyes watching them both, and possibly ears listening.

Halordin smiled at her. “Ah, well, your own face is always a welcome sight, you know that."

Badari fidgeted and paced around, looking at the garden that had held her husband's interest for the last week. “Rather a fancy garden, isn't it?”

“Oh, of course. Not to rival the Lady Galadriel's of course, although they are....” His voice trailed off and he moved to stand beside her again, looking down at her face as she peered into a large flower nearby. “Are you certain you are well?”

“Oh, fine, very fine! Everything has gone well enough. Been busy for a couple of weeks with Esgaroth and Dale, but you know how things are.... always somebody else's mess to clean up...” Badari let go of the flower she'd been inspecting, smiling up at her husband in a way she hoped was reassuring. “I just wanted to see you, that is all.”

Halordin's hand squeezed at her shoulder. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Badari squeaked slightly, turning it into a cough immediately. “Hrm? Nothing to tell, uh, not really.” She leaned around him, scanning the garden around them, noting the number of elves about, and mentally cursing them. They had been parted only two weeks, but it seemed she could no longer stand to be away from him for any length of time. She wanted to press into him, to cover herself in his scent and presence. She cursed under her breath, trying to control herself, and feeling extremely foolish and silly. “Is there anywhere in these halls we might find a bit of privacy?”

Her husband shrugged and looked around for a moment, then nodded to her. He led her from one room to another, all occupied in varying degrees. They stopped for a moment in an out-of-the-way hall that seemed to have less traffic than the others, but it was not really what Badari had wanted. Some things would have to wait, it seemed. “Blood elves everywhere here.”

Halordin laughed as he sat down on the floor in the hallway, propping himself against the wall. “Well, yes. This place has been a home for elves for quite a while. Were you expecting badgers?”

Badari huffed and flopped down beside him. “I had meant somewhere _private_ , actually....”

Halordin shrugged. “This is as private as it gets here, I think. Unless you have a better idea?”

“No wonder elves have so few children... can't find any bloody privacy even in their own homes.”

Halordin laughed, snorting in a rather un-elven fashion. It was one of the things Badari loved about him – he did not care how he appeared (or sounded) to others. Not like these other elves, who seemed to be terrified of being caught blowing their own noses. “Really love, what bites at you? I can't imagine you running back here for no reason. I know that this forest is, ah... somewhat disagreeable to you.”

Badari shifted where she sat against the stone wall, trying to find a position that was more comfortable. “Nothing I can't bite back.” A wood elf wandered past, pausing to glance down at Badari where she sat with her husband with a pinched expression. Badari gave her a look just as sour in return. The elf glanced at Halordin and exchanged some sort of non-verbal question before shrugging and going on her way.

“You have some odd friends here, Halordin.”

“Oh, you have no idea, darling. That one, though, is a friend of my sister Heledirien's, as I recall. I don't know if she is a friend of mine, particularly... ”

Badari leaned sideways until her head rested against her husband's chest, no longer caring particularly who might see. _Bugger all of them_ , she thought. _They don't understand him any better than they understand dwarves. Why should I care about them?_ “I truly have missed you. Do you regret Minas Tirith? We've had no time to... be together... since then.”

”I do not regret our union, but I admit the world hasn't quite given us a break for a long time. Sauron is dead, but he left quite a mess..."

Badari shifted against her husband, until she had one ear pressed against his ribs, listening to his heartbeat. She knew he was still watching her closely, not quite convinced by her excuses, but she could not put her thoughts into words quite yet. “Do you think that elf will tell your sister about us? Heled did not seem to mind us being friends, before, but would she be angry, now?”

Halordin wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Hard to tell. But if she is angry, then she and the rest of my family just have to deal with it. I don't regret who I gave my heart to."

“I suppose it doesn't matter what anyone thinks. I just wish some things could be different, maybe.”

“I have such wishes, also. But the memories of my kin are long, and they don't forgive easily. It was brave of you to come here on your own. I know how uncomfortable this place makes you.”

Badari shrugged, straightening slightly where she sat. “It's tolerable enough, I guess. Your kin are no worse than anyone else's, in the sum of things. Seems every family has some who... well."

“I don't disagree, certainly. Perhaps it helps that I am much younger than most elves, but I like to think I wouldn't be like them, if I were older."

Badari pulled Halordin's hand into her own, absentmindedly rubbing their joined fingers against her bearded cheek. “You are not so cold as some.”

They sat together quietly for some time, ignoring more peculiar looks from passing elves. No doubt the rumor mill was gearing up, and what little semblance of privacy they had would end soon as the curious arrived to investigate. Badari moved to stand, but Halordin spoke, stalling her. “Have you been to Erebor yet? You must have kin of your own there, still, do you not?”

Badari straightened up, and spent a moment fussing over her clothing and clearing her throat, as though she had not heard his question.

“Badari?”

She glanced at him askance, not quite meeting his concerned gaze. She fought the temptation to let out a string of curses. He meant well, he always meant well, and he knew her too well for her to hide anything from him for long, but she truly did not wish to speak yet of what had happened with her little family reunion. "I, uh, did drop in. The new king seems... well.” He continued to look at her expectantly, so she tried to change the subject. “Oh, have you been to the markets in Dale yet? They spared no time in returning to business after the war, it seems."

Halordin stood up, rolling his eyes in exasperation. He knew what she was doing, of course. After a moment his annoyance evaporated, although his concern did not. He ran a hand over her cheek, his fingers tangling briefly in her beard. “Something happened.”

Badari took a step back from him, crossing her arms. "Well there's been a war, of course things have happened. The inside certainly looks the same as it always has."

"I don't doubt it, but that doesn't explain why you're so... nervous all of a sudden."

"I'm fine, really."

"What of your home? Did you find your own kin?"

Badari shifted on her feet, trying not to fidget too much. "I, uh, ran into my mother, briefly. Kuma & Lakhi are still out and about. You know they keep busy. I should probably check in on them soon, come to think of it."

"How did that go? I imagine your mother was happy to see you."

Badari shrugged. “She seemed fine, bit older, but aren't we all?"

“True enough I suppose.” Halordin took a deep breath and took a step toward the end of the hallway, giving in for the moment. “I suppose I could use some fresh air, if you would like to join me?”

Badari ran a hand over her face, trying to ignore a feeling of guilt rapidly making itself known. “I wouldn't mind a trip to Dale, actually. This forest... well, you know how I feel about it.”

Halordin laughed, taking her hand. “Oh, fine. Dale it is.”

 

* * *

 

They stopped by a few inns in Dale, but there were no empty rooms, it seemed. Half of them were currently housing refugees from the East and various travellers looking to turn a profit in the newly reopened markets. It wasn't quite sunset, there were perhaps two hours of good daylight left, but Badari had been looking forward to sleeping in a real bed. It was not to be found, though, it seemed. Halordin had little need of sleep, being an elf, but she was annoyed on his behalf as well, regardless. They'd earned a bit of comfort, she thought.

Halordin stopped at a merchant's stall outside of the last inn they'd checked and purchased two of some sort of fried pastry, handing one to his wife.“We could try Erebor, I suppose. Do they not have an inn somewhere inside the mountain?”

Badari took her pie, chewing at the crust and meat and onion filling. The spices were unfamiliar, and she again wondered what the Easterlings had been pressed into trading with the locals in order to survive. “Not really, no. Most travellers stay in Dale, and dwarves who come into the mountain generally have kin to stay with, or friends of some sort. In a pinch, some stay in the barracks, but I'd rather not do that, to be honest. The war is over but they're likely still crowded and will remain so until things settle down a bit more.” _And I really don't relish the thought of running into either of my parents tonight_ , she added to herself. They sat on the edge of a bridge over the river, finishing their supper while the sun sank lower in the sky. Badari watched the fish milling about beneath them, competing with one another over the crumbs she and Halordin were dropping as they ate.

Badari looked up as the famous bells of Dale tolled, echoing across the valley. “I know a place we might camp nearby. View's pretty good, actually. I used to go up there with Kumathel when I was younger.”

“Up where?”

Badari crammed the last bite of her supper into her mouth like a squirrel, and slid back onto the bridge, beckoning for him to follow as she finished chewing and swallowing. “Oh, I'll show you.”

 

* * *

 

The beginning of the path was actually not that easy to find. It was broadly known but rarely used, after all. It was mostly bored children from Erebor and Dale alike who made their way to the 'back porch of Erebor” (as many of them called it). Badari led Halordin toward the mountain, but detoured west before they reached the broad steps leading inside.

They did, predictably, have to stop so Halordin could meet the local wildlife. Badari leaned against a tree as Halordin held a hand out to a bull moose the size of a coach horse. “Those things are friendly enough, I suppose, if you don't annoy them, but I'd suggest giving the local wolves a miss. They're from the same stock as those in Mirkwood. Verya's got cousins here, too, but they're a bit stroppy.” Halordin laughed, though whether it was at her commentary or the moose accepting a bit of stale cram from his outstretched hand, Badari wasn't sure. _At least he's enjoying himself._

Critter interlude over, they made their way through jagged outcroppings until they came to the path Badari had let them to. Weeds grew profusely on all but a narrow foot-path and boulders and stones made the path quite crooked as it climbed upward. Badari, of course, could walk it in her sleep. Halordin tripped only once, though, to his credit. The story of the company of Thorin Oakenshield and the re-taking of Erebor was famous, of course, and everyone knew about the knocking thrush, the secret door, and Smaug's rage. The tunnel had collapsed long ago under the thrashing of the dragon's wrath, but the wide grassy swath remained. It had been a favorite spot of bored youth looking to escape their parents and chores for many generations, but its use had no doubt dwindled during the War of the Ring, and Badari was not too worried about being disturbed.

“You weren't jesting about the view.” Halordin stood with one foot propped on a boulder, looking out over the vast expanse of Mirkwood stretching to the horizon. Badari joined him for a moment, then sighed when it began to rain. Thunder rolled in the distance and dark clouds promised more. So much for their picnic spot...

“Come, we can shelter under this outcrop, it should be dry enough.” She'd spent more than one night sleeping in this natural stone alcove as a youth and it felt odd to return to it now, particularly with Halordin. She set out her bedroll and sat upon it, feeling like a truant adolescent again. It was growing quite dark, between the rain and the sun setting, and they would soon be under a starless night. She was not in the mood to build a fire and did not care to draw attention in any case.

Halordin settled himself beside her, stretching out on his long back. She joined him, curling up next to him. It had indeed been quite some time since they could be in one another's company without having to worry about orcs or enormous spiders. Halordin, requiring little sleep as an elf, had often remained alert while she rested during the war, but tonight there was, thankfully, little need for such vigilance. Even animals rarely visited this place, other than birds. Despite the drama of the last few days, she felt herself finally relaxing somewhat. Halordin shifted beside her and she soon felt his lips against her, kissing at her forehead, her ear, her nose, and finally her lips. It was getting too dark to see well, but she could just about make out his eyes in the dim gloaming light. Her hands strayed under his tunic, pulling his belt and lacing loose until she could run her hands over his skin. He was not much like a dwarf, certainly, but she did not mind it, in the end. She shifted a bit to spend her attention on his long neck, something she had always admired, and the noises he made were a reward of their own. Several minutes later, though, and her confidence began to falter, despite his apparent pleasure. She, of course, was not much like an elf, at all. She'd spoken to one of the raft-elves earlier in the week and something one of them had said returned to her, rather inconveniently, in this moment, and she pulled away.

Halordin sat up, bewildered. “...Badari? Is something wrong?”

Badari sat up. It was well and truly dark now, and even her highly sensitive dwarven eyes could not make out his features, save when a flash of lightning lit up the sky. The springtime thunderstorm was underway in earnest now, heavy raindrops splashing against the stone above them and cascading off the side of the mountain. "I, er, just thought of something. I, uh... I spent some time speaking to one of the raft elves last week and he mentioned something. I might have, ah... asked about a few elvish customs, and...” Badari swallowed around a lump in her throat, not quite sure she wanted an answer to the question she was about to ask. "Is it true elf men never lay with their wives but to make a child? Because, er... I don't want to force you to do anything. If you don't want to." Halordin did not respond immediately and Badari began to panic. “I don't mind if it's true, you understand, I love you no matter what, always." She could feel Halordin shifting beside her. Her heart was hammering away in her chest like a smith at a forge and she tried to steel herself for whatever he might say. She hated the thought that she might have pressed him or taken advantage of him somehow, and cursed herself for not seeking greater understanding before... well, _before._

“Hmm, well....,” He began. “That depends on the elf, really."

Badari clenched her eyes shut, despite there being nothing to see regardless. "Truly, my love, you must tell me if you do not want to do something. I won't question it." She held her breath waiting for him to answer.

“You must know... that is... I've seen five-hundred summers or thereabouts, so I am in fact very young for an elf in this day and age. Younger than most, anyway. Perhaps because of that, I do not pay such close heed to certain customs.”

Badari let herself breathe again. “Oh, well then....”

Halordin laughed nervously, continuing before she could think of something coherent to reply. "I confess that many elves do think of laying with their spouse only for the begetting of a child but, not all, certainly, I am sure... Well this is not something that is greatly discussed, so I am not really sure how many do or do not... I mean, there's poetry about lovemaking and I've seen books... I haven't taken the time to read very many of them, mind you, but... ah...”

Badari smiled, reassured by his disorganized rambling that he was, in fact, feeling quite himself and not discomfited at all by anything she might have said or done. No, if she had hurt him in some way, he'd have gone quiet, rather. “Hm, well, that's an eye-opener for me, I suppose. I never thought much about children myself. I don't know if we even could do such a thing. Or if it would be wise..."

“Ah, well... I suppose I should have asked. But I've had similar thoughts.”

"After all with dwarves, it either happens or it does not, we can't simply will it, as elves do. There are ways to prevent it, of course... Hmm.” Badari shrugged, unsure if she really even wanted to think that far ahead yet. The war was over, but the world was far from safe, and in any case, she'd never thought of herself as anyone's mother. It was a peculiar idea to her, and not altogether comfortable. And it's not like she was an elf, either. Badari abandoned her ruminations on the future and decided she'd much rather do something else, and began kissing her husband again, returning to her previous efforts as if there had been no interruptions. She knew no poems and had certainly read no books on this sort of thing, but she was determined to figure it out regardless. By the time she'd gotten his tunic off, he'd begun returning the favor in earnest, and bits of her armor and clothing were swiftly piling up against the rock wall beside them.

The first time they'd made love had been somewhat desperate and, in her opinion, over too soon, but this time he seemed to be in no hurry (it certainly helped that the world wasn't, in fact, coming to an end, now). As his mouth and hands worked their way across her skin, any doubts she may have had about his want for her were well and truly gone. She laughed despite her current distraction, wondering why she'd ever worried that he'd find her undesirable.

A swift nip to her ear was his response. “Something amusing you, love?”

“Oh, just...” Her voice faltered for a moment as he provided another distraction. She'd no doubt have a bruise on her neck in the morning, and was suddenly grateful for the length of her dwarven beard. No wonder she was finding it somewhat difficult to string words together. “I used to worry whether you'd even want to do this sort of thing with a dwarf.”

He laughed against her skin, winding his long fingers into her hair, tugging at it gently. “I've, ah....” He encouraged her to tilt her head further, and worked his way from the spot under her ear to a soft spot at the base of her throat for several minutes. “I've found myself growing quite appreciative of the dwarven form...” Badari bit back a rather undignified sound as one of his hands left her hair to travel southward. Halordin kissed his way down the path his fingers were mapping out. “Yours, particularly.”

Badari cried out in surprise as Halordin's mouth settled between her legs and his lips and tongue delved into her folds, soon joined by his long fingers. She briefly wondered just what kind of books he had read, and whether perhaps elven culture wasn't quite so boring and prudish as she had thought. Any other coherent thoughts she might have had, however, would have to wait.

 

* * *

 

Badari lay in Halordin's arms for several hours, drifting in and out of sleep. The thunderstorm had spent its rage and moved on, leaving a gentle rain pattering against the stone in its wake. Dawn was still several hours away, but part of her wished it would never come, and they could remain together in this half-forgotten corner on the side of the mountain. “I wish we could stay here like this forever.”

Halordin had been idly stroking her hair and paused, giving her offhand comment more thought than it probably deserved. “Yes... but no doubt someone will have some dire task for us soon enough.”

Badari huffed, her breath briefly disturbing the fine silver hair dusted over his chest. “We deserve a break. Let someone else chase the next villain. It is not as though we ever get a hero's welcome, regardless. Ungrateful, the lot of them, from one end of Arda to the other.”

“Hm, I think a bit of a holiday sounds quite reasonable. Where would you like to go? Bree? Enedwaith? Perhaps another journey through the wondrous scenery of Mordor?”

Badari rolled her eyes, though she knew he was teasing. Even the mention of the place soured her mood, however. “Ugh! Pray, do not mention that wretched place, I hope I never set eyes upon it again!” Badari rolled to her back, still pressed alongside him but stretching her arms and legs until her joints popped. “Leastways, not until they do something about the smell. I ought to lodge a complaint with the goblins.”

Halordin laughed, the sound muted somewhat by the fall of rain just feet away. “I don't know that they would listen, they seemed quite content with the odor. Who knows what a goblin finds pleasing? Other than all things horrid, of course.”

Badari threw an arm around Halordin's head so she could trace the edge of one ear with a fingertip. Halordin stretched like cat being stroked. She almost expected him to purr. “I'm happy enough here, truly.” Badari leaned over him to rub more firmly at his ear, as she applied her lips to the other.

Halordin pulled her closer again. “For one who claims not to have spent much time in the company of elves, you've certainly figured out how to charm one.”

“Hmm... I'm a quick study.” It was no great burden please him, she thought, as she moved over him, settling into a lazy pace for their second lovemaking of the evening. He had certainly proven in both word and deed that he had no particular reservations about such activities, at any rate.

 

* * *

 

Badari was asleep in earnest when dawn finally broke, and found it difficult to rouse herself. Bright sunlight fell on the forest beyond the mountain, only a few stray puffy white clouds remaining of the night's weather, but it was still shaded where they sheltered on the western slope, as it always was until much later in the day. The buzzing of insects and twittering of birds had broken the peace, though, and she forced herself to open her eyes and begin moving. The rain of the night before and the rising heat of the morning were making their hiding place feel a bit overly humid, anyway. She felt she'd much benefit from a bath, and no doubt he would as well. The river would still be cold this time of year, but not unbearably so. Perhaps later in the day, when the sun was yet warmer.

Halordin joined her in packing up and, with one high musical note, he summoned his lynx with a whistle. Where Verya had spent the night, Badari could not guess, but the creature looked dry and none the worse for wear as she wound around her husband's bare legs, chirruping and purring like a tame house cat.

She felt lighter than she had the day before, but her encounter with her mother still sat in the back of her mind, accentuated by the familiar scenery. She'd spent so much time here, frequently fleeing from her home to escape the pressure of trying to please her parents and tutors. Occasionally she had brought Kumathel with her, but often she'd come on her own, resting here before setting out to wander further afield, often for days or occasionally weeks at a time, despite the punishment that inevitably followed when she returned home.

“I never thought I'd return here.” Staring out over rock formations whose shape she had long ago memorized, she could not quite shake the odd, wistful mood that had settled over her. In all her travels over Arda in recent months, she'd never truly felt like a wanderer. But now? "Not that I have a home here, anymore, but I suppose you never forget the places of your youth."

Halordin squeezed at her shoulder briefly as he returned to dressing himself and gathering up his gear. "Where do you feel your home lies then, if not here?"

“Wherever you are,” she replied, without forethought. And it was true, really. She felt more at home with him that she ever had in any particular place. She loved the mountains, both Erebor and Ered Luin, and like all dwarves, she'd forever have a strong affinity for good stone beneath her feet, but at some point, that had become rather less important to her. It was such a silly cliché, she thought, but he was her rock now, the only stone she needed.

“I feel the same, melda... You said earlier that you were happy here, though. But I think perhaps you are not, not entirely so, anyhow? If I have gotten the wrong impression, though...”

Halordin sighed behind her and she glanced back at him. He was dressed and prepared to leave, while she still stood in naught but her skin, but she wasn't quite ready to move yet. She shrugged one shoulder noncommittally, not entirely how sure how she felt, other than confused and ambivalent. Halordin wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss onto the crown of her head. One hand cupped her breasts as he laughed mischievously into her ear. She smiled despite herself, but still felt troubled.

Halordin stepped back, releasing her after she failed to respond to his teasing. “I don't mean to pry, love.”

Badari rubbed at the grit in her eyes, and wandered back over to her pack and the pile of her clothing and armor, busying herself for several moments with fishing out a hairbrush and working on the tangles in her mane. "I... was truthful when I said that I ran into my mother and that she is fine and well, but apparently the passage of time simply does not change some things."

Halordin leaned against the mountain, watching her, while Verya flopped into the grass nearby. "I think I remember you telling me your parting wasn't very...emotional, or something. Not kind."

“Not kind? Hardly. She and my father threw me out, more or less. I was sent off to Ered Luin over a disagreement. Tch." The hairbrush caught in a particularly snarled clump of hair at the base of her skull and she grumbled and swore in Khuzdul.

Halordin left his perch and came to her. He extricated the entangled hairbrush and began working his fingers carefully through the rat's nest at the back of her head, separating the snarled strands. “Hm, yes, I remember you saying something like that.... that it was many years ago. But yesterday... did your parents receive you well at all?"

"My father wasn't home. My mother... well it's the same bloody arguments even when decades have passed"

Halordin left her for a moment to pull a comb from his own bag, and returned to continue his meticulous work on her hair. "I'll take that as a no, then."

"I'm not what they wanted me to be, and that is the end of it I suppose. I had hoped, foolishly I suppose... well, they don't know about you and perhaps that is for the best. They barely know me, not truly, and they do not approve of even what little they do let themselves see."

Halordin worked the last of the tangled mess apart and began combing her hair in long strokes. Badari closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of it and Halordin continued. "I'm surprised they haven't let it all go yet...you being away for so long, and in the middle of a war against one of the Ainur."

"I don't think my mother truly believed I fought in the war, no matter what I told her. She forever thinks of me as being twenty years old and wearing pigtails."

Halordin snorted, laughing at the image, and briefly gathered her hair in his hands at the sides of her head in disbelief that she would ever have worn it thus, but his mirth dissipated quickly. "I'm not surprised you didn't mention me, then. I'm sure they'd have died of apoplexy. Can't say I don't think my own naneth wouldn't feel the much same way..."

Badari laughed as well, although rather more bitterly than he had. "They'd probably just shout at me and send me away again. That's how it went the last time I went against their wishes for my marriage prospects. Hm, I never did tell you, did I? They tried to marry me off to some swotty little bastard from some family close to King Dain when I was barely forty, they did not even ask me if I would agree, just assumed I would be obedient. Ha!"

Halordin's hands stilled in her hair. “Forty? That's quite young, even for a dwarf...”

“Hmph. Yes, it is. I suppose it is not unheard of but most dwarves do not marry before they are fifty at the least, some not until they are eighty or older. Many never marry at all, of course. I can only guess they wanted the job done before I got old enough to have my own ideas. But I didn't want to marry the one they had chosen for me, and I flatly refused the match. They were displeased, to say the least."

Halordin began combing again, but his movements were slower now. “Forgive me, but the longer you speak of your parents, the less I care for them. Have they not changed at all, since they sent you away?”

“My mother still swore last night that it was to ensure a 'better future' for me, but we both know in truth that my father just wanted his foot in the door with the royal court. We are of the line of Durin, but we're nowhere close to the throne. Umpteenth cousins to the main line, or some rot. My father had practically memorized the whole genealogy, all the way back to Durin the Deathless, but I've never cared about it. My parents always repeated it as though it meant something, as though we were somehow better because of it.”

“They sound desperate to grasp hold onto some semblance of royalty, through you. And that is...Well, I think it's cruel that they would have used you thus." Halordin leaned over her and began combing out her beard as Badari leaned back into him, trying not to dwell on the hurts of the past.

“Oh, they were caring enough when I was a child. I think they did love me, but they were too... ambitious, I suppose. Too in love with the idea of being _more_ to appreciate what they already had. Dwarves have a natural bent toward envy and jealousy, I'm afraid. The best of us remain vigilant against it, and keep it under control, but it can... run away with us sometimes." Badari felt Halordin trying not to laugh behind her, and prodded him with an elbow.

Giving up, Halordin laughed in earnest. “Well, I can attest to that. That one elleth back in Mirkwood likely hasn't recovered from the scorching glare you gave her when she tried to flirt with me when we first passed through together. I'm surprised her hair did not catch fire.”

Badari rolled her eyes. “I doubt she knew why. Did she? They can tell, can't they? That you are...”

“Married? Yes. Which is why I found her behavior surprising as well, but yes, we do have a sense for such things.”

“Sense? What, can you smell it or something? I've never quite understood that. But can they look at a dwarf and say, yes, or no?"

“Smell? No. It's more... I can't describe it, sorry. But we can perceive whether one of our own is bonded or not, that much is true. As for dwarves, I do not know. I cannot. Perhaps the wiser...” Halordin put the comb back into his bag, letting Badari get on with dressing herself. "I'm sorry your parents treated you as such. I feel angry toward them, I am sorry to say. I hope that does not offend you."

Badari shrugged as she laced her breeches and began sorting her armor. “It is an old argument, and not one worth revisiting, whatever my mother may feel. I left yesterday, rather than go through it yet again. If she wishes to speak to me again, she can do so, but I will not remain embroiled in the same arguments again and again. It is a waste of time. Maybe someday she will realize it also.”

“Perhaps.”

"I had hoped, I suppose, that time had softened her anger and disappointment, but it did not. I do not know what my father might think and I am not in a hurry to discover it. I hope his injuries heal, but I do not think I am ready to seek him out yet." Badari began pulling on her armor as Halordin helped her with the more difficult pieces. “Why are families like this?”

“I do not know. Dwarves are famously stubborn, but I am not sure elves are very much less so. I've often asked myself the same. But do not worry about such things, either they will come around or they will not. It cannot be forced. As it is, the day is still young and we may do as we please, for today at least.”

Badari settled her pack over her shoulders once again, and put her weapons in their place. She took Halordin's hand and led him back to the mountain path, breathing air scrubbed fresh by the spring rain, while Verya followed them on silent feet. She was home, wherever he was, and he was here with her now. The rest could be dealt with as it came.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
